


Stupid Elevator

by drarryangels



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Dating, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Ministry of Magic, Prosecutor Draco Malfoy, Smut, Sweet, Sweet Sex, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drarryangels/pseuds/drarryangels
Summary: After Ron finds Draco and Harry locked in a broken down Ministry of Magic elevator, he does not want to know how they passed the time.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 184





	Stupid Elevator

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt from anonymous on Tumblr: draco and harry trapped in a broken down elevator together at the ministry, Ron comes to their rescue and is shocked to discover how they passed the time 😉

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.” Draco nods to Harry as he steps into the elevator.

Harry ignores the flush in his cheeks and stares at his shoes. The reaction is far too familiar at this point to get all embarrassed at himself, but there’s no reason to let Draco in on the cause of it.

They stand side by side, silently, in the elevator.

Harry tries to think of something to say. Anything. But all that comes to mind is what’s been popping up in his mind for months, years really if he admits it to himself. Things like, _do you want to go out sometime?_ Or _I want you_. Not exactly elevator appropriate conversation when they’re both going home after a nasty case.

“Glad to be done with that case, eh?” Harry says, and tries to smile casually up at Draco. He thinks it probably comes to his face more desperately than he hoped.

Draco doesn’t smile. “Definitely.”

Harry nods, and there’s silence again. He wishes there was light music in the Ministry elevators like in the Muggle movies; it would make these daily elevator trips so much less awkward.

Because they were. Awkward, that is. Twice a day, once in the morning and once at night, Harry and Draco stepped into the same elevator together. They rode in silence, shoulder to shoulder, up the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Then Draco turned left towards the prosecutor offices, and Harry turned right to the Auror cubicles.

It wasn’t that they were unfriendly. They were civil to each other when they had to work together on cases, but that didn’t extend to the elevators, much less outside of the Ministry altogether.

“So,” Harry says. “Going home?”

Draco looks over at him sharply. “Yes. Where else would I be going?”

Harry shrugs. “Dunno.”

Quiet again.

Harry says, “Plans for the weekend?”

Draco huffs and turns his head to stare at Harry. “Look, is there something you need, Potter? Because that case really was horrible, and I really just want to go home right now without speaking to anyone.”

Harry looks away and down, and doesn’t respond.

“Well?” Draco says impatiently. “Was there something you needed?”

Harry shakes his head.

Draco nods to himself and faces back to the front of the elevator.

They stand in another stretch of silence before a great screeching sound reverberates throughout the elevator. Draco and Harry look up simultaneously, and then the elevator comes to a squealing stop. Harry is thrown against Draco with the abrupt halt, and he scrambles back to his own feet as quickly as he can.

Clanging sounds echo in the space around them, and then before either of them can move, all the lights go out.

“What in the bloody-?” Draco hisses under his breath.

Harry’s eyes widen, but there’s not a speck of light that his eyes can pick up around him. Everything is pitch black. The kind of black that presses in on your eyelids and erases all your senses. Harry swallows hard. He’s gone to enough therapy at this point that small, dark spaces don’t send him into full blown panics, but they aren’t exactly pleasant.

Harry doesn’t speak, but he can hear Draco muttering under his breath and shuffling through his robes for something, probably his wand. Another bout of muttering, and then a small blue orb flicks into being, illuminating the halted elevator. Harry’s breathing grows a little easier in the light.

Draco conjures one of the flying Ministry memos, quickly scribbles something down, and sends it off through the grates in the door.

Silence again.

A moment later, a patronus bursts into their space and slows in front of Draco.

Blaise Zabini’s voice speaks through the patronus, which is a zebra, of all things. It says, “Ministry had a major power outage. The magical power source vanished for unknown reasons. Elevators likely won’t be back up until tomorrow morning. You’ll have to wait. Sorry, Draco.”

Draco groans in frustration and kicks one of the elevator walls. The metal grates rattle ominously, and Harry sets a hand out to steady himself. It doesn’t really work.

Draco slides down to sit on the floor and puts his head in his knees.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, hesitantly.

Draco’s head lifts and he glares at Harry, the set of his face barely visible from the conjured light still hanging from the tip of his wand. “I want to go home, Potter.”

“Sorry,” Harry says, then sits down on the opposite end of the elevator.

Draco shakes his head. “It’s fine. Sorry for snapping.” He doesn’t offer any explanation, and Harry doesn’t ask for one. The magic core trafficking case they’ve been working on for the past several weeks is explanation enough.

Harry would like to be in his flat now too. Though, he doesn’t mind too much that he’s stuck here with Draco Malfoy. At least it’s him, over anyone else. Someone he doesn’t know would be odd to sit with for so long, and any of his friends would want to talk the whole time. This way, neither feels obligated to speak, and Harry can ponder his stupid feelings concerning Draco in private.

Apparently Draco does not have the same plans in mind.

“So,” he says. “Any plans for the weekend?”

When Harry looks over, Draco is smirking. The look on his face is wicked, albeit exhausted. Harry wants to kiss all over the points of his face. He looks down and says, “Not really.”

Draco sighs and pushes his legs out in front of him. “I really am sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay.”

“It isn’t,” Draco says. “I hurt your feelings.”

Heat flushes up Harry’s neck. “You didn’t hurt my feelings, I’m fine.”

“Yes, I did.”

Harry folds his arms over his chest. “How would you know if you did?”

“Your face is all disappointed,” Draco says, and shrugs. He gestures his hands in front of his face and says, “Your eyebrows sort of tip down when you’re upset.” Harry’s eyes raise to meet his, startled, but Draco turns his face away.

“Well, it’s okay,” Harry says finally.

Another rumble sounds around them, and both Draco and Harry look up. The metal floor of the elevator is hard, and Harry’s limbs are already going numb from sitting on it. There’s an empty sort of metallic weight to the air, an aftertaste of spent magic.

Harry genuinely tries not to stare at Draco as they sit there. But it turns out that the glow of his wand lights up Draco’s pale face quite nicely, and Harry can’t quite force his attention away. Draco notices.

“Why are you staring?”

“I’m not,” Harry says quickly. Too quickly. He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them. It’s strange, to sit like this. It makes Harry feel like a very small child.

“Liar,” Draco says. He lets out a tired breath. He says, “Still staring, Potter. What is it?”

“Nothing,” Harry says loudly. To himself he thinks, y _ou’re nice to look at._

“What was that?” Draco says, his head swiveling sharply to face Harry.

“Did I say that aloud?” Harry says with alarm. He can’t even try to play it off. Being close to Draco, alone with Draco, even sitting as far as they are, is muddling with his sensibility.

A half smile flits onto Draco’s face. “Er, yeah.”

“Sorry,” Harry mutters. “The dark is making me crazy.” Even though the dark isn’t really what’s making him crazy.

“Can I ask you something?” Draco’s voice startles Harry out of his internal berating of himself.

“Sure,” Harry says immediately because he can’t seem to withhold anything from Draco.

The rumbling of the elevator has paused for the moment, and the space around them is now deadly quiet except for the sounds of their breathing. No words will be lost now; Harry would be able to hear a hair brush the floor.

Draco pauses. “Why do you care about what I’m doing for the weekend?”

Harry almost says, _I don’t_. And, _I was only making small talk_. Except that’s blindingly untrue, and he really does care a scary amount about Draco’s plans for the weekend.

“Er,” he starts, charmingly. “I sort of... care about you?”

Draco snorts and rubs the heel of his shoe into the ground in front of him. “You don’t sound very convinced of that,” Draco says, with a slight break in his voice that makes Harry realize that this is not the time to be his normally awkward self.

“I do care about you,” Harry says, stronger. Quieter, “I just don’t think you want to hear me say that I do.”

“Oh,” Draco says. “I don’t mind.” Draco smiles over at Harry through the dim lighting, and Harry’s heart goes ratcheting around his rib cage.

Some part of Harry wonders if Draco might have feelings for him too, but... No, that would be ridiculous. They’re friendly acquaintances, at best. There’s no need to push it with ridiculous notions.

“I care about you too,” Draco murmurs, shocking Harry into stillness.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Draco snaps. And it’s true, Harry did hear him. He only hopes that this isn’t some crazy figment of his imagination, which is plausible. Harry is aware of his ability to fantasize things so continuously in his mind that he begins to think they might be real.

“I-” Harry is out of control of his words. “Could I kiss you?”

Draco jumps backward, and Harry shrinks in on himself. Imagining, then.

But then Draco says, “Why on earth would you want to?” And Harry thinks he might not have been imagining after all.

“I like you,” Harry says. Draco stares at him with wide open eyes. Harry’s throat closes up, and he can’t say anything else, but it’s okay because Draco isn’t jumping back or getting up screaming. He’s scooting towards Harry. A few moments, and then Draco is sitting right next to Harry, his shoulder pressing into Harry’s side.

“Do you really want to kiss me?” Draco asks.

Harry nods.

Draco leans his face forward. Harry cannot think anymore because he pushes his face forward, and then there are lips pressed against his, and _Merlin_ , he should’ve done this so much earlier.

Draco’s mouth is open, and warm, and soft. Harry lets his lips fall open against Draco’s, and loses focus of everything. They move a little. Draco’s hand is on the side of Harry’s neck, and somehow Harry’s hand is brave enough to rest over Draco’s stomach. And their mouths are moving and moving. Harry’s heart is lurching and his mind is swirling, and he can’t think of anything except for _Draco Draco Draco_ , a mantra in his mind.

Time falls away between them.

Harry moves closer and closer, until he’s practically sitting on Draco’s lap. And then Draco loops a hand under Harry’s thigh, and tugs Harry just a bit, and then Harry is _really_ sitting on Draco’s lap with his knees grounded around his hips and everything. Draco’s hands run up and down Harry’s back, and Harry is still trying to get closer and closer, even though he doesn’t think it’s possible for him to press up against Draco even more than he already is. 

But he tries. And when Draco’s hand comes to the top of buttons closing Harry’s robes, he doesn’t hesitate before guiding Draco’s fingers over the clasp with his own fingers, and letting his outer robes fall back off his shoulders. 

There’s no space between them now. Harry is molding into Draco from chin to chest to stomach to below, his legs all tangled up around Draco’s body. 

Draco pulls his face back a little bit, and Harry nudges forward before moving back again.

Draco bumps his forehead into Harry’s and laughs a little. Harry laughs too, breathless and lost in the feeling of Draco’s exhale flowering over his face. 

“Should we slow down?” Harry whispers. “Talk, or something?”

“We’ve been talking for 15 years,” Draco says. His mouth is soft and smiling. 

Harry laughs and tips his head back, and Draco presses his mouth into the hollow of Harry’s throat where it’s exposed. 

Harry lets his head drop back down and looks into Draco’s face, examining the points and curves of it. 

“I want to take you on a date,” Harry says. 

“Okay.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Harry can hardly breathe, he’s so anxious to hear the answer. Because what could be worse than if Draco said no now? After Harry’s gotten a taste of him, after he’s gotten this glimpse of what they could have. 

“Yes,” Draco says quietly. “I really do.”

Harry laughs, loud, and meets Draco in the middle again. 

They kiss. Harry’s hands find their way under Draco’s cloak, and then under his outer robes, and goodness. He laughs again because, honestly, how many robes can one person wear at once? But each layer comes off, and Draco slips off Harry’s too. Then they’re just in their boxers. 

They can’t stop laughing. They’re lying on the dirty floor of a broken down Ministry elevator, and it’s so so funny, neither of them can catch their breath. But it doesn’t matter too much because then their boxers are off too, and then the rhythm of their breathing has nothing to do with the stupid elevator. 

Harry moves, and Draco makes a sound like the world is beginning for the first time. Harry can’t take his eyes off of Draco’s face. It’s beautiful, _so_ _beautiful_ , like this. His face turned upwards to face Harry with no shame, his eyes glossy and bright, his cheeks and ears ruddy and blotched, and his lashes caught with salt. 

Harry is suspended over Draco, holding himself just slightly up with his elbows, but Draco wraps his hands around Harry’s hips and pulls him down. 

“Draco,” Harry says into his mouth. “I don’t want to squish you.”

Draco holds onto Harry tighter. “You’re not.”

And they keep going. 

It ends with Draco arching up into Harry, and Harry arching down into Draco, and the world bursting into pieces with hundreds of millions of stars. When Draco comes, the blue orb from his lumos shatters and falls into glimmering pieces over the two of them, twisted up in each other. 

Draco watches the lights fall over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry watches Draco watch it from where he lies, still half on top of Draco. 

“We should get up,” Draco says when the light has completely disappeared. 

Harry sits up and resists the urge to run his hands all over Draco again. He conjures a fresh lumos and some cleaning charms, and puts his clothes back on from where they lay crumpled across the ground. He takes a seat back where he started, and expects Draco to sit opposite from him, all the way on the other end of the dim elevator. 

Draco comes to sit right next to Harry once his clothes are back on, his side against Harry’s and his arm resting on Harry’s thigh. 

Harry finds it difficult to breathe, again. It becomes even more difficult when Draco finds Harry’s hand and twines his fingers in between Harry’s in the dark. There they stay, in silence, until another patronus swishes up out of the darkness to speak in front of them. 

Harry recognizes the Jack Russel terrier before Ron’s voice has the chance to speak from it. 

“Power core is back up. On our way,” Ron says. 

Harry looks to Draco, suddenly and inexplicably nervous. “Draco?”

Draco’s head spills to the side so he can see Harry. “Mm?”

“Do you still want to go on a date?”

Draco’s eyes close. His voice is sleepy, sated. “Do you?”

“Is that even a question?”

The corners of Draco’s mouth and eyes turn up together. “Yes. I want to go on a date with you.”

“Good,” Harry says, relieved and happy. He lets his head fall down on Draco’s shoulder, and there they sit for a long time. 

Some time later, the Ministry elevators crash back into movement again. Harry and Draco don’t shift from their position on the floor. Harry is partly asleep anyways. 

The lift makes it back to the ground floor, and from there, Ron Weasley yanks the grates open and stops cold. He stares for a moment at the two men sitting on the floor together, their weight propped up on each other, and their hands curled loosely between them. He pauses for a second, and then helps them up and says nothing. 

He doesn’t want to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
